


Nocturne

by AnnieSegal



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:22:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieSegal/pseuds/AnnieSegal
Summary: A ghost story...well, a two ghosts story.





	Nocturne

"Nocturne"

by

Annie

#

I still don't know why I bought a king-size bed. We only use half of it. Her half? Mine? We never even called 'sides.' We just collapsed, exhausted, our two bodies one, she's with me, our limbs a Gordian Knot. And this morning, this morning after, this morning after with only two connotations, two implications, only two thoughts, two simple, simple thoughts own my head.

'Soft' and 'Warm.'

I'm more than far beyond comfortable in my own state of serene bliss, limbs entangled, leg through leg, arm atop arm, arm through arm, arm around waist, arm around waist, and all I feel is the silk of her skin as we're wrapped in the silk of our sheets. Her warmth is mine, mine hers, as we rest.

I'm more than far beyond comfortable in what I hope, I hope and I pray, is our state of serene bliss, we two alive with each other, alive with this moment, alive with this forevermore, our forevermore, alive as one.

I'm stuck in 'Soft' and 'Warm,' stuck in “Id Mode,” that place of raw, animal desire, where everything, no matter how big or how small, is a need, not a want, a “get it or die, fight or flight” need, just from my two one-word thoughts, 'Warm' and 'Soft.'

But she is warm, mid-June afternoon warm, and a sacred kind of soft, a reserved, delicate tenderness she blesses me with, bestowing it upon me through her every kindness, her every act, stroke, tickle, brush, touch, hug, kiss, word, look, glance, thought.

I still have no idea why I bought such a large--no, huge\--such a huge bed. I know part, only one factor, was that she, I, we would use it for a long, long time, but what the fuck was I thinking? Believing there'd ever, once, one time, even, be a night where we wouldn't be arm over arm, arm through arm, leg through legs? That there'd ever be a time, even one night, where we'd need a bed to fit two? A night where we'd sleep apart, not touching at all?

Like there'd ever be a time when we'd go back to what we used to do, like there'd ever be a time when we'd go back to how things were before last night...like we'd ever, ever let anything happen to make the past our present.

The only thing I can see, aside from Ally's “Venus in Slumber” sleeping form and her hypnotic “girl next door” face is 'my' alarm clock.

Midnight.

The so-called “Witching Hour.” Like witches knew, those ages upon ages ago, there was a specific hour reserved for them? There were no clocks back then, not a mechanical, Cartesian means for 'telling' time? What, what, what a term--like someone could 'tell' time what to do? It's a river that flows the way it wants to, Newtonian physicists be damned.

We, free of them and their formulae, be blessed?

Hold that thought...

She starts to stir, her every movement feline graceful, random, as she tries to extricate herself from our limbs' rat's nest, her every movement sending twitches and sparks, little tingles through me as her motions are hitting my every spot. She's hitting, gently, sacred-softly touching all of them--at once...

There's a special ecstasy, even in so little 'current,' in being teased like this, a special heaven just from feeling her touch, from having the miracle of her motions affect me, a perfect slice of God herself just, just, just in the fact that I can feel her at all.

And all I had to do, to enjoy the feel of her silk on mine, the warmth of her against me, the comfort of her in my arms, the Heaven of a life with her...

All it took was for me to die.

*

To think she spent so, so long haunting me in the best way, to think she spent so, so long in the worst, my own personal 'ghost,' haunting me and taunting me with sweet, sweet words, and the horrible, horrible nightmare that I couldn't, just couldn't translate them into perfect, perfect kisses and nights spent feeling each other as one flesh, spent as one mind, body, soul.

To think I named her, I named her, setting her free, but only free, only, only free to be trapped once more, enslaved as mine, my own, my slave.

To think, she chose me as the McKearney girl who would do this, who would shackle her, be her 'owner,' her 'mistress' for my generation.

To think, that very second, the first moment I saw her, knowing the legend cold, knowing her by instinct, by some power outside and inside me at once, knowing to free her with but a name, to think, the second that happened, to think, that second, that second was when I started scheming and plotting for this one, this second I pull the trigger...

And...

As time slows, as time all but stops, all I'm aware of is the viciously glorious agony, the horrendously blessed torture as the bullet, her bullet, her bullet fired from my gun, fired by my right hand, her right hand both 'through' and 'in' my left at once, as what really is our bullet splatters the wall with the pinkish-greyish-reddish chunky salsa that was my brain.

I see what was my body fall to the floor, unclothed, violently greeting the hardwood floor and turning into a cloud of dust, in Hollywood's slayed-Vampire style. And that's right as she, my killer, my bride, my love, my life, my 'unlife,' my everything, folds into my arms as I drop the gun.

"I'm sorry," is all she says, in her pianissimo mezzo-soprano song of a voice, says, tear-ready, tear-filled, as I carry her...

Wait. Hold on.

I...

carry...

her?

I can touch her!

She has this feather-light heaviness as I carry her to the bed, as we make one from two, a fisherman's lines entangling and entangling with every limb we add, as I'm giving her sweet kiss after sweet kiss all over her face, her lips, her eyes, her cheeks, sweet, short kiss, sweet, short kiss, sweet, sweet, short, all too short little kisses, burying her in it all as I laugh, as she cries, she laughing, I crying, we laughing and crying in our joy.

*

She really doesn't owe me anything. Even with how much she acts as if she's my slave, to command, bound forever and forever still, until her debt is paid, shackled to follow me, bound to either pure truth or pure silence, a slave not enthralled but instead, actually, truly, in mind and body and soul in love with her 'mistress,' she doesn't owe me a single thing.

I, last of mine, I owe her, I owe her for generations upon generations of her time and love and effort, for being never freed when her debt was settled, decades, maybe centuries ago, for my line never setting her free even when the 'books' had 'balanced.' I owe her for every cross word and cruel act and every impure thought and leering glance down the centuries and...and...and, I, it all boils down to I, last of mine, I owe her.

And I want it that way.

I need to owe her.

There were so many sad songs in the happy melodies of her voice, every moment of my teenage years, every moment when I snuck home from boarding school just to spend the night in bed with her, unable to touch her, we two a millimeter apart, eyes locked on eyes, we two talking each other to sleep.

There were so many sad songs in the happy melodies of her voice, every night, as she, as I, we were both speaking sad songs with the upbeat tones of our whispered voices.

Too many sad songs buried in happy melodies over the years, generations, centuries of her time serving us, paying someone else's debt, too many.

No other McKearney girl has ever realized it.

We owe her.

No--I owe her, I, last of the McKearney's, never to marry, never to...ugh!...never to, um, spawn? I owe her, I, last of all of us, last of my line, my kin, my family. It's time for me to pay her back, to owe her, to repay her with what so many of them must've not shown her.

Attention. Devotion. Love. Worship.

Thanks.

She won't hear of it, and I've never mentioned it. Even when I told her, silently, wordlessly, even when she agreed, silently, wordlessly, and took me as hers, even when I made myself hers to own, bound, shackled to the same condition, with the same liberties of “Free Will” and “veto power” she'd accrued over the years, full autonomy and “no means no,” even now, this now where I've become so much hers, so much hers that we're each the other's slave, that we're each the other's 'mistress,' we treat it as 'equality' and call ourselves 'free.'

She's right--we are.

And all of our Dom/Sub “social contract” came about without a word of negotiation, not a single stroke of the pen, just an infinite, endless, limitless marriage of what we really, she is right, what we really are, enslaved equals.

All it needs is to be sealed.

We lay in a complicated simplicity of limbs, hers stroking every inch of my nude form, me feeling every part of her body I can. So soft, so warm, so sweet, so...everything....There isn't an adjective of pleasure that doesn't apply to her body as her breath tickles me, as her hair does the same, both in their own way, her own way, as I feel her arms exploring my back and all I can do is cry and pray.

All it needs is to be sealed.

“First? Zoey, please? First?” Her soft, sweet mezzo, singing her question to me.

A slight smile from me. A slight smile from her. And we can feel, literally feel, how nervous, how fuckdamnall nervous we both are, how idiotically calmly nervous we are, to how insanely, perfectly, Divinely calm we become the exact moment lips meet lips.

Silk, pure liquid silk on my tongue. She's slow silk dancing a lilting waltz. It's...I can see now why people would think this forbidden; its sensual bliss, its pure communication, its warmth and smoothness, an 'evil' intoxicant, ours an even Holier sin as I'm flying, my every nerve shooting, feeling everything at once. The kiss, so innocent, so pure, so virginal and sacrosanct, and with one little move of her silk, silk, silk tongue, all made sin, all with one little move of her silk, silk, silk tongue, all made Holy.

And her sweet, sweet tears falling gently, more falling from mine, wiped away, hers by me, mine by her, as the dance starts to build in intensity by quieting and slowing, calming by going deeper and faster, and evens out as she pulls back, with one final tip-to-tip touch, a long, playful lick of my upper lip, as she tastes me, as I taste her, before we end, eyes locked, staring, as we let ourselves just be one with each other.

It's over.

Tears, hers, mine, we two made one in tears. Made one in breathlessness, made one in being spent, made one in smiles, broad, pleased, blessed. She atop me, I feel her silk on my silk, her hands, not a callous, not a one, soft, so so soft, mapping my face, mapping my neck, my arms, hands, fingers, her eyes staring at my eyes, as she lets her tears fall to contend with her small smile.

Short, sweet kisses are very, very, oh-so-close behind. Mapping, kissing, mapping, kissing, my shoulders, sides, legs, toes. She has no idea what this is doing to me, but I stop my ever-building need to squirm for this 'ritual' to go on. Mapping my ribs, breasts, stomach, innie, feeling all of me, letting her 'see' me, slow, gently, softly, perfectly, Divinely slow, too slow to do anything but drive me wild.

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnghmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...I...”

“Sorry. I just...I...I had to? I don't know why, but I had to and I couldn't stop and I just...”

A single finger to her lips as I let her crawl her way back into my arms. Arm over arm, arm around waist under arm around waist, leg between legs, chest on chest, feet together as they slide and glide, heads cheek to cheek.

“No need to apologize, no need for 'sorry.' I know, Ally, I know. You...you need to 'see' me, and if this is your 'ritual,' if this is what you've wanted to do, I mean, it's...I want you to do it too, love, and I want you to touch every, every, every inch of me, just if it'll...I want, no--need--I need you to 'see' me, Allyson, my...I'll have a petname for you, maybe two, not including 'love,' or 'sweetness,' or 'sweetie,' or stuff like that, I'll find one, two tops, I-I-I promise, I vow, I swear, Ally, I swear on us that--”

“--Shh. I 'see' you now, all of you. I'll touch you over and over and over again, Zoey, my sweet, sweet Zoey. See? Just gentle mapping, just gentle touches of gentle play. But I-I do 'see' you, all of you and...can you kiss me again so I can 'tell' you, because...it's better than saying it aloud, and words have too much power, so...just kiss me so I can 'tell' you every 'word?'”

“Just, promise me you'll 'see' what my back 'looks' like while we do? I...your touch, the way you 'see,' Allygirl? I envy, no, that's not the right word for...I'm in awe of it. It's so intimate, so personal, that you only see who you choose, how, at the very least, how you only would appear to members of the family who you thought would trust you...that, in the end, you only 'see' me, Ally? It's so...I need to 'tell' you, too.”

That second kiss, long, sweet, with moans, low, lovely moans, that second kiss, silk, liquid, pure silk, innocent sin, that second kiss was our lullaby.

Blackness, hers. Blackness, mine.

Blackness, ours.

*

'Warm' and 'Soft.'

Winter smell. Ally's soft and bravely-timid “Good morning” whisper. The silk of her inner thigh at my hip, the satin of mine at hers.

She's asleep and awake at once, and she knows, her silent smile, her all-is-well sigh, that I'm thinking about her, my own, my Ally, soft and subtle and subdued, my perfect little submissively-assertive Ally, my own perfect 'unliving' yet breathing contradiction, dead, long dead, but more full of life than anyone, anyone I've ever known. My own, my forevermore, innocent and childish and wise and timeless, curious as Carrol's Alice, my 'bride.'

She's this look about her as she wakes up with a thin, bemused smile, on slight, wisp of a trace of lips, guarding lily-white teeth and an agile, adept, expert, darting, daring, dancing tongue.

Or, at least, I think that's what her tongue would be like if...no--when--when she...stop. Stop fantasizing and let 'it' just 'happen' whenever it 'happens.' No, not 'whenever'--when she's ready, when everything is right, when everything is perfect for her, perfect for me, when everything is perfect for us both. For when it's 'time.'

“First?” She's too cute, too enticing, my 'unliving' Siren, beautiful, deadly, deathly beautiful, her voice.

“But that happened last night...and...true, there's no such thing as 'too many,' um, 'first' kisses. But that's you being you, isn't it? I mean, were we talkin' 'first first?' Or are we talkin' just plain our 'first?' Wait...'firstfirst first first?”

“It's kinda hard to get a first kiss when you can't touch anything except a bed, not even your one-true, and there wasn't much in the way of an LGBTA, unfortnate rhyme, there wasn't much, um, 'Gay Pride' when I first became an...'unliving?' I mean, 1403? Everyone, everywhere is so Catholic they go to Church to get absolution for sleeping with their own wife, they're that uptight, yet half the time they're sinning a couple hundred other ways they don't talk about?

“And if you think you have a problem with Priests and little boys now? Nowhere near as bad as the nuns and little girls back then. What? What did you think happened to a known lesbian girl? The convent!”

“But I know this is, last night was, I mean, a first for a while...the first, gah! We've got to cut back on that word? The McKearney girl who was your, um, 'Mistress' when you were still alive, the one who died and you...became an 'unliving' to repay the debt? I know you and she...

“Ally, I know a lot. Possibly too much. So kiss me before I'm wrong and something dangerous happens? Kiss me before I say something incorrect and--”

It just happens.

Holding her to me, her nude softness, silk and satin against me, holding her and drinking in the possibility, the beautiful, wondrous, gloriously perfect possibility of an eternity in this embrace.

It's pure poetry in how our lips feel, fit, lock, in how we softly, it'll be always, forever softly, sweetly, gently, how we do, how we will, how we are dancing, full love, full us, how it's both completely instinctive and completely improvised, how every move and moan, how every 'counter' and sigh is part, only a part of our connection, how even our tongues are only part, how our real connection, the true, real way we are linked is through our heartbeat and breath, through our sighs.

The pure poetic bliss is that we're one. What we have, this kiss is both of us as one, completely, literally us as an embrace, us in physical form, us in full.

God, may all of our kisses be so different that they're all exactly like this one, may all of our kisses be this imperfectly, please God, may all of our kisses be this perfectly, imperfectly, beautifully, blissfully magical.  
But she stops it. Slowly, softly, subtly, and of course, gently. It takes...an age and a half, but...worry, fear, confusion, submission, all at once.

“Ally? 's okay. C'mere? It's really, I swear, Allylove, it's really okay. C'mon, just relax and...”

*

She guides me to sit up, supported by a thick stack of pillows, all of hers, all of mine, as she peels back the covers, crawling on hands and knees to turn and lie down on my lap, straight across me, her eyes, her teal and her sky blue pools of infinity staring at me.

There's never been anything so playfully, innocently erotic. She's my intimately-known complete stranger. But the entire journey, from in my arms to in my lap, from face to face to face to face, all of it, I know, my mind knows, my heart knows, all of me knows that what I have just seen can, no--will--will be a 'ritual.'

All I have to do is ask.

“'s okay, Ally. Look. I'm here, see?” She takes my left hand and idly guides it to her cheek, my right to randomly roam across her body, led at first to avoid and to teach me her 'hotspots,' slow enough for me to make mental notes on them all for later 'play.'

“Allylove? It really is okay. Just...let your hands roam and...tell me what I look like? C'mon, Allybaby, it really...Allyson? Please? I'm here, love, I'm here.

“We have it, you and me, Allygirl, I have you, but here's the good part, the great part, the amazing part--you have me...tha-haaaat's it. Just let them have a mind of their own. Wanderlust me? C'mon. I...you need it. Ally, you really, really need this. I mean, I want to, and I know you do too? So, just...yessssss...let them explore. Just...mmmmmmhmmmmm...jussst like thaaaat.

“No, don't stop. No need, 's okay, my Allygirl, 's really, I'm fine. Just...just tell me? Tell me, sweetness? Ally? Tell me how you see me. Not a mirror. You. Thaaaaaat's it. Mmhmm. I love this...I'll stop you if you get too close? I promise. It won't, we won't...it'll...okay?”

“It's just...I've never been more nervous about anything, Zoey, I really haven't. I mean, yeah, I can do this, but...Zoeylove? Sweetness? What if I...by accident, I touch where I...”

“Ally? If this leads into 'ritual,' this leads into 'ritual,' I guess? I mean, I...I'm kinda getting to where I'm gonna need it anyway? And...we'll eventually have a first, right? So why not just play around and if we're there, we're there? Besides, sweetness, it's fine. We'll let all of our forevermore just be us letting things happen as they happen? We'll start us out simple and let it evolve, okay love? I mean, unless you have a direction for us, why don't we just do that? Simple until we evolve beyond that, steadily? I mean, limping step after limping step, building until we're a beautiful ballet waltz? Allylove? Ally? Let's have it so it all of it, the kiss was the overture, but the dance all starts with you roammmmmmming me? Exactllllly. Seeeeeeeeee?”

*  
Her voice is sunrise-gentle, almost sunrise-silent, but just as bright in tone, happy, serene, subdued and soft. A sad song in such light, sweet notes.

God? Please? Little moments of tears, solved by her magic, by what she chalks up to mine? Kisses and hands roaming and bliss? Can this be our forevermore? Please?

Even with this hands shaking, ready to run, ready to...even with all of this nervousness, God, please, can we have this, even with how I...can this be our forevermore, Blessed to be ready to dance, ready, ready, all but there, until we are, and...God, please, just help us get to that dance, that waltz, and please, God, our dance as our forevermore? It's just...

Please?

“C'mon, sweetheart. It really is okay if...even if you do hit a...if you do, y'know? If it happens...Allyson, it's just 'play,' Ally. Are you nervous because you feel that I'm not, that this is not...trust me, Allylove? I promise, I vow, I swear it's safe, so...I'm asking you to trust me, sweetness? It's safe, and we have forever and forever and a forevermore after that, right? There's nothing here you could do that'd change that. There's nothing you could ever do that'd change a thing about that. I love you too much, you love me too much, and I know this is safe, so...”

There's a long, silently loud pause as I just let my hands aimlessly wander, as I let them feel her warmth, as I let them feel her softness, and as I let them feel her smoothness, as I let, finally let, a small smile escape, as I let a small moan remove its gag and be heard. All in an eternity of five seconds, all in a deafening five seconds of silence.

“You are a whisper of a girl, Zoey, so lithe, so thin and trim, all soft, soft curves. Your face, I just melt with your face. Your eyes, love? I just...they don't match, and that's...I don't know why, but it makes you so...it makes me feel I need to protect you? They make me feel like I have to have you hide behind me, or in my arms, always, always in my arms or holding my hand or next to me so I can make sure no one ever, ever hurts you.

“Heart-shaped, cream and freckles. It's...mmmm. You've this dot of a button of a nose, sweetie, and it's...your wild fall leaves bangs and your long, long, 'Locks of Love'-long hair, all fiery explosion reds and oranges. And your smile, so subtle, but so present at the same time? Those little smirks and half-smiles and wide, wide grins and...all of them--you could get me to do anything, love, with your smile. Any smile. You know that. Don't use it for evil, 'kay?

“Aww! Your laughter, Zoey? Your laughter? Last night, when the crying stopped and we stopped holding all of us back, and in the end we just laughed and laughed, y'know? Yours? It was pure, an...an aria of laughter. I'm sorry. I can't without cheating. I mean, may I?”

I smile as she places her hand on mine and guides me in a figure of eight around her breasts, fast underneath, slow, slow, slow around the tops and sides.

“Sorry, Allylove--I didn't...you're not cheating, don't worry. It feels niiiiiiice. I feel, I really feel...honored, love. I feel...really, the only word for it, for how I feel right now? I feel 'worshiped.' And very, very flattered. And kinda...embarrassed?”

“I could tell by the way every single part of you is blushing. I love your...what are they? 32A's? Yes? They're perfect for you, Zoey. Put your glasses...here. I'll put them on you?”

“Ow!”

“Sorry! Sorry!”

“Gotcha!”

“You are absolutely too cute, and the glasses? Box frames? You are like a sexy librarian meets a...God do I feel like a cradle-robber! I really, really do. Are you sure you're twenty-seven? I mean, if we hadn't been together for thirteen years, I'd...”

“Go on, love. 's okay.”

“You're peach red. And you're...aww! Love, you're so...it's...mmmm, I love how softly smooth and smoothly soft you are, the cream of your flat, flat stomach and your nothing of a waist. But you have curves, God, do you have curves. Great hips. And of course your 'maiden,' not a hair around it, shaved so, so, so carefully. Except it still has a fine, fine, fine fuzz, just like the fruit. Are you just as tasty?

“And addictive? I...later?”

She quickly moves my hand away as she squirms in my lap. Apple red? No--she is a red I've never seen before, a blushing red all her own shade, her own hue, her own intensity. Zoey-red....

“Alabaster thighs, fit, trim legs, great calves and...may I? Mmmm. Little size fours, narrow, small toes. You're squirming, love. Is this...um...getting to you?”

“Yes? No? Yes? I mean no, no. I'm fine. No, I'm okay, really. No. Dammit, fuck, yes! Fuck! It is, okay? It's...they...okay! S-s-so I...so they...it's not like I chose to have them that way! So I'm just wired to...Okay? Yes, damnit! Fucking bitch, fuck you, Ally--love you! Shh, just playiiiiiing! Stoppit! Stop. Just stop, okay! Yes, I...to them, okay?!

“What? Why are you looking at me...like...that? Oh. Oh! You...too? So when...last night when we...I was...it wasn't...just...me...turned absofuckinglutely completely the fuck on because...oh. Oh. Oh! Sorry! Allylove, I'm sorry! So, so, so, so sorry! I...I just get, I don't know, um, well, y'know? From having them even gently brush against yours? And you...the same? Riiiiight. Great. Just grea--no, this is amazing! Think of the things we can...oh, right, you've been thinking about that since...I see...Allylove, could you hold off on touching them for now?”

“Sure. Can it be that I-I-I, um, th-th-that I have to, y'know, Zoey? That I have to 'earn' them? Make them a present or...a reward or--”

“--Just...Allyson, c'mon, you know me better. You don't need to 'earn' a thing, Allylove, you don't. You've never had to, you never will, love, not with me, love, not with me, not ever. You should know that by now, I mean, Allylove, c'mon. Have I ever, ever made you earn a thing? I'm not a true McKearney girl, am I. Besides, you chose me, which means you won me, you won me. I'm yours. You own me too, you know that. Every inch, curve, mound, every part of me, I'm yours...just, um Allylove? I'm yours to...just...just don't...not right now?”

“Zoey, sweetie? Um, can you just...I get scared every time you say I don't owe...I do, so stop saying it because...I mean, are you tired of me and want me gone because you think...”

“No, Allylove, no, Allyson, no. Shh. Shh. Eeeeeeasy. I say that because...can I talk about this later? Later tonight, I promise? Just...tell me what I look like, go back to that. It's...not for me, love, do it for you. Go on, you'll feel better because...I can see it there, in all of you, that you've a need to do it. Go on. 's okay. Just--”

“--Zoey? I love every...you're, what, four-eight? Four-eight-and-change. 's okay if you try and fight for the 'and change,' Zee. Okay, I'll just, for us, you're four-ten? Okay? And, maybe, what, a size zero? No--double-zero. No need to blush, love? Really. Promise. I love you tiny. My 'Little Love'...”

She's all but purring as she nestles in, as I place my hand on her temple, the other tracing small circles on her stomach. She's crying as I run my hand through her hair, as my other hand starts brushing her cheek.

“Zee...Allyson? You remember when you used to call me that? I mean, it was, I was how old? I...so many happy memories, Allygirl, so many flooding me, but there's one, just one, a wish, a dream that...I...it's so hard to ask, Allyson, it's...

“Allylove? I...I-I-I need...I need--it's, I know how you are, Ally, this isn't...I do need...it's a-a-a I don't know, a...you can say no here? So it's not that I need you to, but, I kinda want, really, really badly want you to get me off? I'm sorry, I know it sounds silly, but I need to get release? I mean...God, I'm a sinner! I...what, thirty seconds ago said 'no?' And now I'm saying 'Please Fuck Me?' Now I'm demanding it? What a...I'm a bitch and a whore! I'm...a McKearney after all, ordering you to do something that...I...I-I-I'm sorry, Ally, I shouldn't, I don't, it's not that I need...it's that my body just needs 'it' because, um, I don't understand it, but I need 'it?'

“And, not soon, but, um, Ally, I need you to...and I mean now? Right now? Right fuckin' now? I mean, not start it, but fuckin' 'get me to cum right now' now? This is not, not, this isn't how I...can we just...I hate to ask this, Ally, love, but I need you to just...take me? I...I really, Ally, I...really... needitandGodamIabitchneedingitaftersayingIdidn'twhenIdonowandIjustneeditIneeditIneedtocumrightnowIneeditAllyIneeditIneeditbadsopleasejust...”

A kiss. Long, slow, calming, soothing kiss. I feel her whimpering dying down, her moans taking its place, warm, soft, sweet, low, long and slow, a moan of 'need' but “not quite yet,” a moan of “please take me” and a moan of “make it take forever and make it magical? Please?” A moan of all of it.

She moves to sit, still in my lap as I lie back on a rearrangement of the stack of pillows, her back in my chest, her head just below my chin, as I'm stroking her face gently, kissing her neck, bringing her up, up, up, getting her ready, a little prelude, 'giving' her my love--we have it, we fully, completely have it, all the devotion, the worship, the...all of it, especially the initial nervousness, all, all, all of it, so there's nothing for us to 'make,'--getting her ready so we can start our 'lovesharing,' our Agape, our “love feast.” Just a little nibble of an ear, gently, softly, sweet nibble to...

“Mmmm. You didn't touch them before. But...mmmmnnnn...how'd...”

“How'd I know?” I ask as my hands move south from her shoulders, feeling, aimlessly gliding over her skin, her smooth, smooth skin, down her arms, my hands atop hers. “You never, you were the only McKearney girl, of all of your sisters, you're the only one who never got them pierced.” One travels back north to cup a breast as I draw small circles on her stomach with the other. “They're firm, soft but firm, smooth but firm, so perfect, perfect, perfect. Zoey? You have beautiful, perfect breasts.”

“Please, Allyeeee? Don't touch the bottom of them ye-het? I mean...they...they're too, um, y'know?”

I let one finger tease her with a long, slow journey beneath her left breast. “I know.”

“Unnnnnnnnnnngh. Allyeeeee! Please? Please, please don't? Please? I...just this once, they're...just not yet, okay? Please?

“Wait...you...uh-huh-uh-huh...youuuu-ngh...you know?”

I let her be distracted, obsessing over that little mystery as I move my attention back to her ear. “Let's start over now, love? Just...that's it. Relax, Zoey, relax. Shh. I...I won't until it's 'time,' okay. Just, um, tell me what you need, how you need it, and it's yours? You know that, right? Ask and it happens? I promise it'll be as close to what you...as close to that as I can. Just, sweetness, just say the word, Zoey? Tell me what you--”

“--No. I want you to 'learn' me? But learn me 'your way.' I don't want to, um, y'know, live out my fantasies so soon?”

She, always, she's always been spoon-feeding me more and more autonomy, more and more “Free Will,” more and more choices, more and more “veto power,” but this? Me deciding how to, um...get her off? I've seen...so she'll get...

My right hand strokes her cheek, her forehead, her cheek, as I nibble, gently nibbling on her left ear. “I did say I'm going to...”

Just as my lips are poised, ready to pounce, “Mmhmm. Braaaaaaand me? I belllllllllllllonnnnnng to youuuu...mmmmmmmmmmm...uhhhhh-huhnnnn...nowpleasenow? I'm yourrrrr prop-puh-huh-puh-huh-hherrrtttty. Owwwwwwwnnnnnnn meeee?”

Suckling on the sweaty softness of her neck, tasting her silk, little nips right by her jaw as I'm teasing a nipple, ever so slightly pulling and ever so slightly twisting it with my left's index and thumb. Her neck, her silk's sweat tastes too sweet, too, too sweet and I pull away to see the slight beginnings of a hickey and smile for but the briefest of moments.

She'll be purple there...

Proof she's 'mine.'

But I need one, to complete the set, one from her on me, to show, to all, to sundry, to everyone and no one, to all the people of the world, to everyone, all of them, and to all of the people who never come into her townhouse, to all of the people who aren't in our world, that I'm hers. To show who really, truly owns whom.

She's...purring.

That is, until my hand returns to the valley of her breasts, running up and down, a fallen '3,' gentle, completely gentle as my hand dances around, atop, over her beautiful A-cups, adoring them, worshiping them. She's cooing, gently cooing as I try once, just once, to tickle beneath.

“Nnnnhh!” she protests.

“Sorry! I won't, never again, okay?”

“Nnnno, it's not-t-t-t thaat. It'sssss...it's just...mmmm...not yet, okay? This is wonnnnnderful and I...that'd, y'know, it'd be...over the edge? So, I mean, to end it? Maybe? One time, yes, definitely, but this time? If it's...how you want to go, but...please, please, please, Ally, please, not yet? Please?”

“Don't worry, love? I'll...a different...I won't give away the ending, no 'spoilers,' okay?”

“'Spoilers?' I...Allyson, my Ally, you are a beautifully twisted...you're perfect, for me, for us, and...I love you, Ally. Mmmmmmmmmmnhhnnnnnnnnn. God bless you for the sins you do to me!”

If she only knew just how much love she shows me every time she uses that one phrase, “My Allyson,” every time she shows me, tells me, says that I'm hers, her own, hers to own, her willing slave, her full lover, her chattel, her property...

“Love you too, Zoey. Shh. Just...”

*

The dance of her fingers on my ribs...I'm laughing as tears fly from my eyes. I'm so ticklish, everywhere, literally, literally everywhere. I'm ticklish as hell everywhere! She knows now, and she's...I'm dying in laughter as tears are flying from my eyes, a heat, a strange and oh-so-familiar heat building, building monuments as I'm...

“Soclose...soclose! Allllllllieeee! Notthisway!”

Her tarantella stops, only to be replaced by long, slow strokes, her hands a pair of bows, arco, in largo, one on my cheek, the other again gently tracing around the tops and the valley of my breasts, bringing me back down, down again. My pulse, my breathing, my mind, even my need, all of them, they all settle.

“Tell me how. Tell me how, tell me how and it's yours.”

“Ally, I don't care how? I...really, not now--the need's too...too much...anything? Just...get me off? Please? I...I'll pay you back, but...I need to cum, an-an-and I need it now?”

“It's a gift. Zoey, Zoey, I swear it, I promise, you never, ever, ever have to, never need to 'repay' me or it's that you 'owe' me or anything. And...anything? So I can, I can hold them, and I can...”

“Be creative? Just promise me that for our first time? If we're creative,” she's starting to squirm a little bit, a cute little squirm in need of me, all from a need I'm not fulfilling, a need I'm not yet fulfilling. “If we're creative, I don't mind if you touch underneath or play with my...or tickle...or...just, um, just not vanilla? But also not rocky-road-pistachio-peanut-butter-mint-swirl with bananas and caramel on top? Y'know? Ally, but...now, please? I, Ally, I-I-I need it, kinda really need it reeeeeeeally bad, fuckin' damn, Ally? Please, I needit, needit badly...Ally, please, please, Ally? I need it now?”

She puts a single finger to my lips, repositioning herself so she can kiss me, a “Shush, silly” kiss, so calming, so soothing, so still, that I'm not even in 'need' any more. It's...I want it desperately, I want to know what she feels like, how she...all of it, it's just I'm surrounded, wrapped in so much softness, and my mind comes to a halt.

Her hands, her hands that took me so close to the edge, soothe me, with one stroking my cheek, the other moving in small, small circles on my stomach, too slow to excite, even too slow to tickle, that perfect speed that I don't even moan, as her legs wrap around mine, all as she's nibbling on my ear.

*

I gently smile as I help her to sit in my lap again, my hands lazily, randomly tracing lines on her stomach and on the tops of her breasts, random lines and swirls and circles and letters as I just draw and draw, watching her come up just a little bit. Watching her squirm as I'm giving her and denying her what she needs at the same time. She's just before the edge.

And I want to keep her there.

It's as my mouth meets her ear, the one I'd neglected just minutes ago, to nibble, oh-so-gently nibble, right where she would have piercings, would but for...I don't know...her breath is coming in slight stutters.

I start to introduce little moments of order to my hands' travels, a loop around a breast here, a brush there, more order, and more, and more, a hand massaging, kneading a perfect and pert and perky palmful, gently, softly, my pinkie running a little line with every squeeze, but doing it from the side, neglecting the bottom, the underside, all of the lower half.

It's a four-fold act. As I'm rubbing the sole of her left foot with my toes, as I'm still nibbling her ear, as my right hand is still worshiping her right breast, my left hand starts to rub, in ever-southward circles, her stomach, her mound, all to let my hand avoid, ignore, neglect where she needs it most.

“Allllllllllieeeeeeeeeeeeee! You bitch! I love you! Fucking whore! This is amaaaaaaaaaazing!It's...wow...so this is what...it's...Mnnnnnngh. Let me cum! But...but you...you slut! Dammit, let me fuckin' cum!”

“You know you love it,” I whisper, sunrise-softly, in her ear, a soft whisper for a whisper of a soft girl. “And we've not reached the peak...”

“Thhhhhhhhhhisssssss is my...mmmmmmmm...I'm glad I never let myself imaginnnnnne what this would be like.”

“You never imagined it could be...like this?”

Four-fold becomes six-fold. I lean forward a tad, my mouth moving to nibble and nip her neck, sucking and suckling, gently, as my hand switches breasts, as my other hand molds to let one, one finger, one and only one finger traverse her lips, engorged, skipping it after the third lap, only for the entire hand to caress her alabaster thighs.

“Succcccccch great h-uh-huh-uhhhhh-hhhhhheights. Ally, how d-d-d-do you knnnow what to do?”

“I don't. I just wing it based on how I hope, just on how I hope, you'll respond. You likey?”

“Me morrrrrre than fucking llllliiiiiiikey. I...I-I-I lovvvvvvvvve-ey. Mmmmmmmmm. Sonice, sosmooth, sosoft. It's all so gentle, so...it's all what I need...”

*

I'm starting to cry as the pleasure is building, as the heat's burning me to cinders, as the love is drowning me. That's when she does it--the hand at my breasts moves to my chin, tilting my head so we can kiss.

It's softness, silk tongue on silk tongue, no friction as we kiss longer, deeper, but somehow gentler. A Holy sin as we kiss, softly, gently, fully, living the deliciousness of our Blessedly Devilish moans and coos, our stutters and catches of breath, our keens and all of our sounds that have no name at all. It's my one, true, secret, secret, secret fantasy, this kiss, how she's not stopped a step, still on my breasts, my thighs, still kissing me, letting her index finger touch my cunny as her other fingers and her palm continue to stroke my inner thigh, as her thumb and forefinger, palming and kneading slow, steady, soft, as her thumb and forefinger are turning, pulling, tweaking a nipple. Stroked and stroked, palmed and pulled, her fingers leaving, to her lips and back to my breast, a 'kiss.'

God, please, let her always worship me with such devotion? Teach me how to show her all of my adoration and affection and love? Let me learn from this bliss how to give it to her? God, please let our forevermore have love shown like this, so tenderly, so affectionately, so perfectly, with variation upon variation, all showing all of our love? And please, God, teach me how to show it all to her in return? God, please...

My prayer is interrupted...as...!

Her feet on mine, her left hand at my breast, her right too close, too, too close to my 'core,' too, too close and too, too far away.

I try to stifle it. I want to be quiet, to be churchmouse quiet, to be reverentially quiet, sunlight through stained glass quiet, letting this Mass of Pleasure, this Agape of Sin's Blessings go on in the silence of my devotion, but I can't be, I just can't be, I can't and a small, little moan escapes, low, sung, letting her know...I wanted to let her know only by my 'release,' but I moan, a little hint, a small hint, a little, small, tiny hint.

“Mmmm. Zoeygirl, that, that was adorable, and--I mean, it's okay. Please? Love? Don't fight them back? If you have one, I mean, hints are fine, Zoey. They're little 'I love you's.' Please? Please, Zee?”

Her fingers to her lips again, a 'kiss' from them as her lips, they through her fingers, her blessed fingers, touch my teat, a kiss but for a kiss, as she returns to their figure of eight, her right hand's index finger journeying up the syncline of my folds, her left traveling down the valley of my breasts. Up my folds, my Mons, turning to avoid 'it,' a long time out of its hood, a long time out to let her know it needs attention, a long time out to let her know I'm close, extremely fuckin' close, her index finger's in a journey of wanderlust and wonderlust around my folds, around all of 'me,' to tickle, a little scale, my inner, inner thigh.

A pull, a twist, gentle, gentle, of my nipple.

“May I, love?”

It's a general sentence, no direct object, no clue, asking permission, asking for affirmation, for my blessing, so she can...“Allylove? 's okay? Please? Wait? I...notyet? I don't...I changed my needs...I'm...Ally, this...this is too nice to end yet, y'know? Can you please, Allyson, please hold off? I know I said I need it, and I do need it bad, but..but...hold off...the torture is...there's so much love in it. So, let me enjoy it just a minute longer? Another minute? Just for a little, a minute?”

“What Zoeygirl wants, she gets,” she whispers as her mouth returns to suck, to suckle, to nip, to nibble on my neck again, her left hand leaving my legs to 'draw' on me, her fingers small brushes on the canvas of my stomach and my sides, avant garde art, swirls and lines and waves and circles and spirals, random, completely random, slow, soothing, sublime, bringing me back down.

“So nice. I...you're worshiping me. Allylove? I...I'm honored. I'm blessed.”

Thank you, God, for Ally, for her love, for her worship. Teach me how to show her the same? And...

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnmmmmmmmmm!” A mezzo's moan, mouth clenched, sung and hummed and moaned at once.

Her right hand leaves its drawing to hold my left as she slides back, slides magically back only, exactly, precisely that distance so she and I can kiss, truly kiss, not an inch, not a fraction more, just, just enough for the two of us to kiss.

She's using her lips, her tongue, all of this to teach me how she sees me, how she feels about me, how much she loves me, slow and soft and gentle, soothing, kind, bringing me almost all the way up and right back down at once, a romance played with my lips and tongue, toying and teasing me, ending it too soon, leaving me...it's not choice, it's not “Free Will” at all--I just, it just happens--I whimper, a tiny, pained note, and her lips, her tongue, they return.

She knows me not at all and knows me completely.

It's not an overpowering explosion like in bad romantic comedies. It's not a timid attempt by two nervous kids with puppy love. It's the sensual, soft, smooth kiss of forevermore, a forevermore without 'spoilers.' It just lasts, bringing me to the heights of Everest, just to that magic point where I lead her hand back to my breast, letting her take over, as I whimper once more, trying, succeeding in telling her where I need its mate--close to but not 'in,' not even on my...my...my 'maiden.'

She abandons the idea of a figure of eight, favoring instead to draw, but one finger, a small spiral, side to mound to teat, on my right breast, matched by another on my left thigh, one anti-clockwise, the other spiral the opposite, as my breath is starting to slightly catch.

She abandons the idea of suckling on my neck, favoring instead to paint my neck and my cheeks and my forehead with thousands of little kisses, thousands of little pecks, all gentle, all soft, all randomly placed, as I don't fight it this time, as I don't hold it back, as I don't even impede the slow, long moan, high but throaty, a keening note, a mezzo's note--“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnghmmmmm.” Right into a monotone of a lower “That's...wonnnnderful, Allllllieeeeeeelovvvvvvvvve... I...howwwwww do you know how to doooo thisssss?”

“Instinct? Zoey, I swear, it's all instinct and a sense of play. No one, sweetness, no one ever, back then they would've...y'know? I-I-I just imagined us both, me and you, over and over and over, getting idea after idea, but that was until...once you moved back in after everyone else was...and I saw how you wouldn't even 'help yourself'...I stopped. And all I could think of was this....”

Another, softer, gentler, longer, slower kiss. Her tongue dances with mine. Perfect, perfect everything--pitch, intensity, speed, pressure, length. Bliss.

“Mmmmm, you're too honest. Wow...I...mmmm, Allylove? A little slower if you want to...Nnnnngh! My feet? C'mon, that's cruel, Allybaby, just purely cruel! It's so cruel, and I just, I...Ally, I love it. All that you...”

“If I had a way to do it, I would be getting every spot and 'trick' I know, sweetness, all of them, all at once....”

“Oooooooooooooooooh! Please, slowly, so painfully, so amazingly, so incredibly slow? Please? Now? May I...y'know...am I...may I...now?”

“Zoey, not quite yet? I-I'm sorry. I know it's cruel. It's too cruel and I'm sorry, but, um, can you hold it back? Please try? Try hard? I...I-I want it to be special? And I know you don't want...and you want it special too, so...a first is precious, right? And I...just, please, sweetness, can you...just try reeeeeeallllllly hard to hold it back, to hold it in, okay? It'll be...I need it to be, and I know you want it to be...so...okay?”

I feel her teasing my lips, up, up, up, slllllllllowly up their valley, a little, light touch along the folds, along the inner lips, touching their wetness, a little bead following her finger along, as I, as she, as we both start to cry.

We don't cry at it, but to it, our tears are our 'prayer,' our Holy prayer to this sin of love, both of us crying one psalm, the same, same, exact same, said through our tears as we let the embrace, this perfect embrace wash over us and surround us and, as we drown in it, it baptizes us, so we are reborn, reborn again, we two 'unliving' reborn as we, as 'us,' we two as one.

Crying to the sacredness of two taunting my 'maiden,' two taunting my right breast, and her feet taunting mine as her mouth nibbles on my ear.

God? This? Always this...this sacred? Please? Always this gentle, this soft and sweet and...God, I'm not asking for it to always be this intense, but...teach me to give this bliss to her?

“May I? Is it time?”

“Only if...if you...want to...only if you feel...aaaaaaaaaahhmnnnnnnnn...sonice...only if you feel...mmmmm...time...please...now...yessssss? Plllleeeeease... now? Please...nnnnnnnnow? Allylovvve, please?”

She turns my head to hers, her mouth to mine, we two kissing deep. I feel two, only two, thank God Herself it's no more than two, 'in' me, parting my lips, 'in,' wait, 'out,' wait, repeat. 'In,' and 'out,' and 'in,' and 'out,' slow as I push myself, ever so gently, ever so softly, off of her lips so I can whisper to her. “You can go...please, go faster?”

She doesn't listen. I'm squirming around her fingers, suffering with pleasure, dying, an 'unliving's' second death just from the simple joy of a kiss and a 'kiss,' my 'maiden' so lovingly tortured.

I feel...full but empty. It's too shallow, too slow, too little of so much. But, but, but, but, but...then it's faster, it's deeper, and I'm pushing, pushing, pushing my hips to meet her thrusts, over and over, thrust for thrust, pushing to keep her fingers 'in.'

*

Her head snaps back as I push 'in,' as I push deep, as I give the tiniest of flicks to her 'button.' I lower her back to the sheets to lay beside her, leaving my hand to love her, as she--she's not aware of herself any longer, but...my hand is giving her that extra little loving touch, a little more, a little more still, she's riding my fingers...fast and deep, slow and shallow, but...but!

My touch on her is blessing her, giving her bliss.

My touch on her is inspiration, a prequel, a 'trailer' of what's to come.

I have to, I must, I am living and dying to hear this as I...

It's one movement, turning, holding her hands above my head, and adjusting how I'm 'in' her, from two to one, my middle finger, one, just one, as my thumb decides to 'play' with her clit, holding her still, licking the sweat from her neck, licking up to her cheek, moving my finger faster and faster, sucking and suckling her neck, in, deeper, deeper, faster. Faster. Deeper. Hook, up, press, press! PRESS! I feel it, a little wetness, a shallow stream of nectar.

I let go of her arms to bring that hand to her breasts, tracing back and forth underneath, underneath her 32A's, side to bottom to side to bottom, swinging back and forth as my one 'in' her becomes two once more. I move my lips to hers.

Tender, tender kiss. Soft, soft, tender, tender kiss. Long, long, soft, soft, tender, tender kiss.

Faster.

Deeper.

Faster still.

All the way deep.

That 'link' breaks as...as...deeper, deeper, stop, hook, up, press, press, press! There! Fast but so gently, fast but soft. Firmly fast. Firmly, firmly faster. Gentle pressure 'in,' gentle pressure on, firm and gentle pressure 'up.'

Her head flies back as I move my lips back to her neck for one, last, long suckle, as my feet 'kiss' hers, as I hit that small, precious spot, as my free hand alternates tickling her ribs and tracing lines beneath her 32A's. As...as...as!

“Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaagh! Nnnnnnnnngh! Nnnnnnnnnngh! Yieeeenghhhhhhhhhh! Ohyesohyesohyes! Sonicesonice! Nnnnnnnngh! More? Goddddddddddd? Plllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease? Moremoremore ohplease? OhPleaseGodPleaseOhGodOhGodOhOhOhOooooooooooooh! Gyieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyahhhhhhhhhh! Nnnnngh. Nnngh. Nnnn. Mmmm. Yessssssssssssssssss. Mmmmmmmnnnnnnnngh!Mmmmmmmmm. Thannnnnnnk youuuu, Alllliee love. Mmmmnn. Mhuhnnnnnnnnnn...Thank...you...Allylove...I...love... you. Wow, Allllieee...I...I-I-I...I have no words....”

Silent as sunlight, I'm gone, I, I, yes, I--I am fucking gone.

*

"Um...hi? Mmmm. I...nnnn...huhnnnnnnmmmmmm...I love you...Ally. Um, was I...?"

"Thank you for letting me have you?" I let her cry, gently, softly sobbing into my shoulder. Happy tears. “I love you too, Zoey. Shh. You can drift off if you want to. After that, if I was in your place? I'd sleep for a year? That was...I mean, even I, y'know? Thank you? I...I didn't know I could?”

“Can...gimme a minute to return to being 'me?'”

“Zoey, Zoeylove, shh. A minute, a day, a year, a century, we have them all. Just...let yourself be. Would...would a kiss help?”

“Yes? I think. Maybe? I...I...I'll never...hnnnnnnnnnn...turn one down. You had to ask? Thank you, Alllllieeeeee. Mhnnnnnnn. Delicious. Perfect.”

*

I feel the kindness in her kiss, how it's not for her, not for her at all, that all of it, it's all to help me, to calm and soothe and lull me back to myself, to say to me, without words, to say everything. I feel the gentleness, the soft, sweet gentleness as it's slow, so, so slow.

I feel her, all of her, the softness of her legs at my 'maiden,' the smoothness of her arms around me, holding me close, tight, firmly-gentle, firmly-loose, how she's cradling me to her to help me return to the present, to now, to being me, I feel the silk of her skin against mine, both of us sweaty, both of us sticky and wet...

Wait...both, no, seriously, both of us...sticky? Both of us...wet? No. No way. No way in hell. I call bullshit. She...did she...she, no fuckin' way, she...? She...!

“Did you...from me...I...got you...I...?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, and it's all contentment, all gratitude, all worship in her admission.

“Ally? Ally, honey? You actually...from me? It's...I'm so...that's the most beautiful thing, the sweetest thing, the best, best, best, best, best thing that's ever happened in my life.

“How do you...I need a minute...I'm still a little winded, I guess? From what...from what you gave me? Mmmmmmhuhnnnnnnnnnnn...mmmmnnnn...wow. I'm still...little ripples and aftershocks? Any other person would be humiliated to admit that, y'know? But you? I...I'll tell you everything. I've always been ready to tell you every...just, gimme time? Allylove, how do you know how to do that, how to make 'music' from me? How do you know how to make me 'sing?'

“My moans, my screams, Allylove? They're...my 'notes' are from me, to you, for you. Just as much as you're 'mine?' I'm beyond just 'yours,' so...every moan and sigh, every scream and giggle, every cry and laugh? They're all yours, to own, as if they were, um, like it was my poetry, they're poems from me to you? I'm too horrible at it, and it's too teenagerish, and it's too...sappy? So, just use my moans and my kisses and 'kisses' and cries and...and all of it instead, okay? And...

“Allyson, just...snuggle into me, love? It's okay. Shh. Just nestle in, exactly like that. I'll whisper, you listen, and maybe we'll just fall asleep in the middle of it? Like we used to? I...I always loved that.”

My head is so secure here, her hand at my cheek, the other in mine. I am so secure here, my body against hers, no judgment, no Fate, nothing except us. It's as if one stops time here.

The moment she links her right hand with my left, the second our eyes lock together, the exact second I exhale, knowing I'm hers, fully hers, as I'm held, fully held, I feel her roll us to our sides, as she slips her leg between mine, a wet-ish, sticky-ish mess coating her thigh, making...perfect...noises. I...I have to mirror her. It's an “Id level” need. I just give in to it.

It's the moment I put 'in' two, a pair, just resting, waiting for her to relax, waiting for her to understand how it's also an invitation for her to do the same, to truly mirror me, that I'm doing it so she can join me. Two, reflex, instinctively 'in' me.

“Is this...” Ally trails off, her whisper becoming an orphaned silence.

“No. It's...”

“Mmmmmmm...niiiiice. Keep them slow? Please?”

“...see?”

“How'd you ever, ever think this up?”

“I know, Allylove, I know, but...I know what you're gonna say to it but, it's not, not to me, I mean, not really...it's...I find it sad, and I mean really, really sad now, but, here goes. I was, 'then,' I was...to what I though you would feel like, and I...so hard I kinda immediately fell asleep, and woke up with them 'in' still? I know, it's kinda creepily freakish, but--”

“--no, it's...I have no words. That you love me that much, that you'd...that hard...to just a notion about me? That you'd wish me...'in' you...and that...did you dream? You dreamed it was me, just there to, what, keep you connected to me in sleep?”

“...yes?”

“You we're that mine?”

“...yes? But not 'were?' Please, don't put it like that?”

“When?”

“...first night after I saw you?”

“Is that why...”

“...yes?”

“I...Zoey? I, um, I wish I could share a dream with you, one I had that same night? All I can do is...'cause I can't...can I please tell you about it and pretend we both dreamed it together?”

“Promise, like I've always wanted, to keep them 'in?' Just...just like that one night? So I can live that fantasy, no matter how silly--”

“--it isn't silly. It's beautiful. Zee? Whenever, whenever, I swear, whenever, if you...need them? If you need them 'in,' just grab my hand and mold my fingers and...and I'll do the rest. You'll have them forever if you need them. Zoey, you'll always have me 'in' you if that's what you want. Not need, even if it's just a want, a simple want, just--”

“--mmmm...thank you? And thank you for the sonatina of your voice? Allylove...please? Could you...just, softly 'in,' slowly 'in,' and...soft, slow words?

“Share your dream, just keep them 'in' and...at thaaaaaat temmmpo. Perrrrrfect. Mmmmmnnnn. Dream for us? Dream for us, Ally.”

God, may we always have happy sighs, like hers right now, like mine at hearing hers, may we always have this peace, this calm, this stillness to us when we lie down to rest. Please?

“It was the first night I saw you, that night, when I prayed for you to be in my arms, the night before...y'know? I--ghosts do sleep, especially lonely ones. I mean, you know about the sleep, but...ghosts, 'unliving,' whatever you want to call us, we're human but for...y'know? The first night, I drifted off and the next thing I knew--”

*

"--care for a dance, Milady?"

"What?!"

In moments, I have one hand in yours, fingers interlinked, palm on palm, elbows at the waist, the other at your back, yours at mine, as we start a...passable...imitation of a slow-dance, a small circle, to music neither of us can hear, music we dance to anyway, and somehow our tempo, from the first step on, is synchronized.

"Close your eyes. Just concentrate on my heart."

You bury your head in the crook of my neck, all but purring as we continue to dance until...one little heel to toe jump, toes pointing to the ground, and...

"Look around. Shh. Don't...it's...'s okay, relax, and just breathe..."

We're about a foot off the ground, spinning in place, our legs still, and your heart, your heart is somehow calm, so calm. I lean my head on yours.

"How did...how is this even possible?"

"I was feeling sleepy as you came to me, right before you started crying, and just as you were about to nod off, I asked you to 'enter,' and everything after that...we're in my dream, so, it's possible...consider this 'something Ally's always wanted to do with you but couldn't figure out how' finally being physically possible, 'how' finally being meaningless.

"So, just lean on me and dance?"

Time has stopped for us, as we just twirl, floating to and then through a ballroom, empty, as a waltz begins, as we go higher, to dance above the rooftops from our section of The City, higher still, until we can only see stars as we continue to hold each other.

And here, even in space, where all is cold and silent, is the warmth of us and the cuddling melodies of Tchaikovsky. You're purring into my shoulder, your hand at my spine now but a single finger tracing small circles at the small of my back as you feel so calm, so secure. You just can't help but cry.

And smile.

"It's okay, Ally, I'm fine,” you say. “Just hearing your happiness. I love your all-but-silent moans, Ally, your little sighs and purrs and moans, they all...please, never stifle one, promise? They're one of the only ways, just hearing them, it's the only way I know, unless you tell me, that i know you're happy...I mean...

"Even if I'm crying, Ally, unless I'm sobbing, assume you've done right? Mmmm. This place...it's perfection...and it's your doing.

"But, Ally? Could we...one more coda, please, just one more?"

*

"That was my first dream of you and me as an 'us,' and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't redream it. I tried, every night for all of college, and every night your violin, every night you played and played, and I kept knowing you were composing as you went along, but it wasn't until just now, actually, actually, really having you in my arms that I...and I...I...it's my gift to you."

"Ally? Just to know that you dreamed of me as so yours, me as that yours? I mean, how did you know I...that rule about my crying? I mean, no one...? You...dancing with me? I feel like I've never dreamed of you right, that...that my dreams were all so base and carnal that...my dreams defiled who you really are, Ally, and they...I...I shouldn't've dreamed of you, I shouldn't've been allowed to, because I--"

“--Shh. Just be. Just be here, just be now. We have it, so don't let the fact that your dreams...”

Zoey is so soft, so warm against me, so still, letting me mold to her, somehow fitting her every curve. I kiss her, trying, desperately trying, for us to fall asleep lip-locked. Her tongue is both passive and active, invading and retreating, but gentle. Soft, slow. I'm all still, letting her play her way to sleep.

*

"Allyson? Could we...I mean, if it's not...I don't want to need this but I still, I just do, and I...Allylove? Could we...I-I-I've never had anyone before and I'm, I know this sounds so childish, Ally, but...I've never had anyone in my arms and I...I've never, not once, so I need to know, when I wake up, that this is real, that you're real, that you, Alllie, you, my Ally, no--not chattel, not property, you, Allyson, my love, my...you're my wife, Ally, from that first kiss on, you've been married to me. But I...I wake up a lot and I need to make sure you are in my arms and that all of this isn't...isn't...isn't me with just a fantasy running through my...so I need...to see you when, not if, but when, because...so please, could you, and..."

"If you need the lights on, Zoey, they'll stay that way. I remember how you needed it all those years. It was fine then and it's...I'll be fine. Come to me and just...yeah, snuggle in tight like that and just...there's no need for words now, dearheart. Don't speak, don't think. Just feel.”

“Just be. Just be here, just be now?"

“Not even that, Little Love. Right now? Just, just feel.”

If I'd only thought of trying to sleep like this, if I'd only seen how truly perfect this is, how we're one, our hands one hand as Ally's 'in' me, as I'm 'in' her as well, a perfect circuit, 'maiden' to 'maiden' and back, a universal touch, a universal rhythm, a universal everything, breathing, pulse, sighing...

I give her a slow, long thrust, and a retreat, to the slowest pace I can manage, 'in,' wait forever, 'out,' wait forever, repeat....

She's doing the same.

God, I shudder to think what we're doing to the sheets--tiny trickles of treacle on an already soaked and sticky and sopping lake--but my fingers feel "at home" where they are. It feels...right...to sleep this way, so cuddled, so close, so warm, to sleep in such a perfect snuggle that even my fingers are "tucked in."

I can tell it's time for me to sleep, to really sleep, when she's even slower....

I let myself follow my own advice. I let my hand drift over the smooth and firm and soft skin of her back, feel how she's thigh between thighs with me, feel how warm she is, how hot, wet, feel how tight her 'maiden' is, smile a little wider at how her breath is gently tickling me and a little 'mmmm' escapes at how soft her hair feels.

I let myself smell her, taking in how she's, to this very second, sweet soap and peaches and honey, how her hair's vanilla.

We start to drift off, falling slowly as we're soaked and sticky and smiling, gently, softly smiling, not at but to each other, gently, softly smiling as we start to drift off into a light nap.

*

I'm awake and she's still up, looking at me, smiling at me, free hand stroking my cheek, not-so-free hand stroking my cunny.

Let moments like this, God, let us forevermore, our forevermore, can they please, please, God, can they always be like this? Little kisses and big moans, smiles and 'in' and 'ritual' and shared dreams? Can we have this and just this...? Please? This and just this, and these sweet words and these sweet moments, just this? God, teach me, teach her, teach us how to have a forevermore as close to perfect as this moment we're in right now, and teach me how to...Please?

*

It's still dark out. There's a magic about us, here in this king-size bed, in soaked and sticky sheets. She's awake, wanting my hand roam where it may, but I can't let our 'kiss' end, so I just lazily draw circles and spirals and waves on her arm, listening to how my Ally purrs as she nestles closer, as she snuggles in tight, as there's a gentle sigh from her button nose. I hold her close, moving my hand to stroke her cheek. A little nose-on-nose kiss. Her giggle is a little arpegio, first-second-third-fifth-eighth in D-flat-major, soft, subdued, subtle. A peck on the lips, a kiss stolen. Her eyes stare into mine.

Moments like this, God? Nothing but these moments of pure bliss and serenity mixed with the ecstasy and chaos of 'ritual's' heights, with these notes so sweet, so soothing, these dances of words, these ballets of kisses, these symphonic moans and sonatinas of whispers and no tango's, no scherzo's, all of it poco allegretto and pianissimo? Just calm and soft and quiet, moments of just bliss and serenity and perfection? Please?

“Promise. Did we...'in,' I mean, it's...was it like you dreamed?”

“Better? Allylove, it was...it-it-it was magic. A different kind of magic, pure, sacred, Holy magic, Ally, it was...I-I-I...can I just tell you how great it was through a kiss and then--”

*

My lips are on hers, hers on mine, and it's a sonnet. No--it's a true aria. Sad and sweet and true, a transition to bittersweet wistfulness, changing key and using a leitmotif of a happiness emerging, the high note, sustenudo, a mezzo's moan.

She's singing 'ourselves,' our former selves, our two incomplete but completed lifetimes goodbye and, in this last moment when our kiss is about to end, and she's singing ourselves, our new selves, singing us 'alive' and hello.

“Huhnnnnnnnnnnn...mmmm. I...”

“Me too? I'll always have to say things like that to you, and I'll try, I can't, I won't ever promise anything except to try, I'll try and make sure I tell it to, if I don't have words, I-I-I promise I'll try to tell you that way?”

“Zoey? Right now, sweetness? Right now, anything you do, anything you do to me? Whatever you want to do, love? Whatever you want to do is fine. I...I can't wait, I really can't wait. Just...keep them in and deep? So I feel full and complete and take my hand and...”

And the rest she knows. Leg between legs, chest to chest, feet toying, face to face, held and holding and full. She has the prettiest tears in her eyes, tears she doesn't hide. Gentle, soft sobs, still, perfectly still, readying herself, preparing herself, getting it all out of her system.

Her pair, her two, small fingers, folded 'in' me start to thrust and retreat, filling and emptying and filling me, slow, oh dear God is she slow, and deep, all but all the way deep, never exiting.

I--it's reflex--I do the same.

'In,' two, three, four, five, six.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

'Out,' two, three, four, five, six.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnn...that's how I...how I need it.”

*

Except this isn't what I want to do. It's part of it, I mean it can be if we evolve that way, it doesn't have to be a part, there are other things we could do what I want to do, but I don't know how to do the rest. I need to, not because she, earlier, but because I need to tell her that it's mutual, and that's the only way to 'say' it right, to 'say' it all, to...show it all to her.

This 'kiss' is part, a small part, only a small part, of what I want, no--need\--what I need to do. A kiss, a “maidens kiss,” a few other kinds of 'kisses,' all, all as close to at once but I don't know how to get us there, how to do any of it...and I don't even know if it will...'work?'

I don't even know how to get us to the point where I can even begin 'that' kind of show of...everything. Sure, earlier, I...it just happened, but this time? I don't want to force us there, I don't want to 'maneuver' us, to take the helm and leave her as a Yeoman, because...I...I don't, just don't, know how to do any of it.

Stop drifting off into thought!

She's...

“Ally, you-you-you're taking my dream and making it your own but you don't know that, um, Allyson? That dream? It was, it only lasted until I woke up, and when I woke up, I...I woke up, and, yes they were still 'in,' but I was alone, Ally, when I woke up, I realized it was my fingers, that it was my fingers and...and not...not anyone else's...not yours, and I realized that it was all a dream and...that moment, I'd never felt more alone.”

Her lips on mine, not an aria but a sonatina, light and airy, but in a minor key this time, her moans sad but ever so slightly sweet, as she snuggles closer in, tucks tighter against me, whimpering, scared, but the kiss ends before I can figure out what she's trying to say.

And one second after it's over, I understand.

I understand every word.

“You need me to, and you know that I don't know how, and you don't want to scare me by...or feel...or make me feel...yeah. Ally, Ally, Ally, don't be afraid to ask. I'm not scared, and I don't feel anything but honored. And...I just need to know what you want, how, and when. Well, I know 'when' equals 'soon' here, but...every time you need it, just ask and...

“Ally? I know.

“I know. You're free.

“See? Still here? See?

“Ally, I'm not offended, I'm not insulted, I'm not even hurt. I'm just confused. Why not just, from when you came through the wall to me in this room thirteen years ago, when you told me you were my 'slave, Mistress Zoey,' when you told me that, and when I flat-out rejected it...

“I knew before you even spoke, from that first syllable, really, that you're my 'one-true' and that it'd take something drastic, and I knew it all, Allyson, not just what your name, your real, true, given name is, but also the spelling, remember how I was specific--'double-'l' and with a 'y'' was how I put it?

“I know that whatever 'debt' you had was 'paid' off generations and generations ago. I know you made sure to do everything, even going beyond what the McKearney girls asked of you, just to pay off your 'debt' faster and faster, because you knew I was coming 'soon,' and 'sooner,' and then 'extremely soon,' and you wanted me to...you wanted what I need--you as my equal, Allyson.

“So you worked your ass off, Ally, just so you wouldn't have a debt to me, so you could love me as you, not you being my slave or anything like it. I know. You did it all for this, for us, for forevermore.

“It's why you can't do a 'no means yes,' why you can't play my fantasy of being yours to play with as your personal sex-toy.

“It's why we even have the equality you have, Ally, right? It's because we've been equals for generations before I was born. It's because, when we were in bed together when I was growing up, the two of us talking each other to sleep, you and I were already an 'us,' our forevermore had already started, and it'd started because you're free. You could've gone wherever...but because you didn't have me, you've been waiting for me instead, pretending, yes, pretending to have this 'debt' for McKearney girl after McKearney girl, for generations. Until me.

“I...I see that smile, and I know. I see that nervous, hopeful, wistfully confused and concerned and all-love smile, and I know you knew. I know you knew I'd figure it out.

“Yes, Ally, you were right. All that time growing up, when I was talking about a one-true, yes, but I was just too afraid. Yes, I was, am talking about you. But, back then, I couldn't've said anything because, I mean, what normal girl has a 'ghost' for a best friend, let alone her only friend, let alone what normal girl falls in love with 'her ghost,' let alone...everything else? Thank God that He's really a She because it makes being a 'girl who loves girls' not all that bad a sin given how heavenly it feels, especially when I do this...”

Lips on lips, tongues cuddling, tasting, playing as they toy and tease, all slow, all silk, all soft, as I move ever closer to her, a hand to her breast, another to her inner thigh as I hear a keening, a cooing keening, a moaning, cooing keaning as she sighs, pushing my hands away to link with hers. She's giggling around a nameless sound of bliss. All too soon and right on time, it's over.

She's playing at coy, at coquettish, as she pulls back, wagging a finger. It's teasing me to do oh so many things to her, taunting me to jump her and find some way of riding her until we're both too tired, too sore, too tapped out, having lost all sense of self, all sense of just how many we've both had.

She knows it and the gleam in her eye isn't from tears. It's from less, far, far less innocent things. Her smile? She's thinking of all the Holy sins she's about to experience. And, of course, she's blushing. I know, I just know, that I...from her...is beyond a certainty.

There is such magic to her, I cannot help but stare as she's shifted to lie on her side, presenting herself, all of her, and I can only think that it's to inspire me as I see her head propped up by her hand, the other hand on her stomach, showing and hiding her at once, this sudden, silent, subtle magic that makes me stop everything I'm doing, makes me forget everything I'm saying.

God? I see You in her, in my Ally, in how beautiful she is, in how much love and devotion and adoration and worship she gives me. And I know she must see it in me, too, because I see prayer in her every smile.

But God? To know that we were created to be together, to be together after our lives, to be together in our 'unlives,' God? She is so perfect and I don't know how to show her. My words, my kisses, they don't...so, God? Please teach me how, tonight, how I can show her and give her the bliss and the ecstasy she gives me?

Please?

“You okay, Zoey?”

“Um, admiring the view?”

She knows I'm not telling her everything.

“Okay, Ally. Sorry? I'm..I'm also praying, praying so I know how to 'worship' you like you do with me, I mean, like the, um, like how you...'worshiped' me, uh, earlier? I...I always know how much you love me, and I-I-I...but you need me to, and I don't know how, no clue, nothing, and I feel it's cruel, it's evil, no--it's blasphemy for me to let that 'stop' me, Allylove?

“There's so much I need to tell you, that I have to tell you, because...because it just needs to be said. I need to show you my love, my adoration, my 'worship,' Ally, and I need to...why are you, um...”

She's smiling.

She's smiling?

Just a blink later, when I can see how she's smiling, the warmth, the complete honesty behind it...

“When I saw you? Zoey? And after that, I just waited until I knew you needed me. I knew, I remember, 'This McKearney girl? She's the one-true.' And the bullet, it's proof.”

“Ally? I know you make yourself look the way a McKearney girl wants you to look. But you didn't with me, did you. No, don't, Allyson, just...just look you. I don't know how you knew, but you knew all of this, that I'd name you 'Allyson,' that I'd finally give you your name back, and that I'd be your one-true, that we'd be a 'forevermore,' and I know, I know you didn't change your appearance, just...what, the clothes you wore the night before the first McKearney girl? And I knew, the moment you chose me, all of this, I knew it all, and...and, of course, that you wanted to slowly, sloooooooooowly seduce me?

“I remember your first night in bed next to me, in this all-white, virginal nightgown...I was dying for you to show me all of you, but...and how you're always nude here, in our 'unlife?' It's you making up for that, I know. It's okay, shh, Ally, it's okay, it really is. It's beyond worth the wait.

“Ally, when I say I need just one night of an everything, where even 'no,' means 'yes,' it...it's because I need us to own each other. But...but then...I don't know what happened, Ally? I don't. 'cause right now, I see such a different, Holy need in you, and I...I need to get myself ready to, um...

“So can I just look at you, drink you in? Just, I don't need to stare, but...please, let my eyes, um, dream? In silence? Just to get my mind away from all...all of it?”

“Or maybe we could just kiss instead?”

It's a religious experience, relishing in the sin of it. It's Holy, feeling the smoothness of her lips on mine, the sweetness of her tongue entering me, dancing with mine, silk on silk, a ballet, a pas des deux as our tongues cuddle, a low moan, low, sweet and long, from us both as she pulls back, licking my top lip and moaning once more.

“Can...may I have you?”

*

“Can...may I have you?”

She has tears welling in her eyes, ready to white-water kayak their way down her cheeks, ready to run and jump and fly their way away, ready to break free and flee, ready to make her cry and cry and cry for a thousand's thousand years. And yet, these tears in her beautiful mismatched eyes, her beautifully mismatched teal and blue eyes that make me need to always protect her, to always hold her, these tears are beautiful.

But she's also this wistful smile, a half-smile, hopeful, ready to broaden, just as soon as the word is given, but equally ready to open so she can mourn if the answer is no.

Her hands are shaking, quaking, quivering, as she starts herself to shiver and rock back and forth with a fear that she should never, that I should never allow her to have. I'm dying again, just from seeing her in this fear, this fear that I have planted in her and allowed to bloom and blossom.

“Could I say 'no' to you on this, ever? Do you even think I even have it in me to even try to say no to you? Now? To say no to you? Me. Say no. To you. Giving me my first, my real, true, first first, me say no to you giving me my really truly very first? You think I could honestly, Zoey, honestly say 'no' to that? I...I'm blessed, Zoeygirl, I'm truly blessed that you need to ask, that you even feel the need to ask!

“The politeness in you, the respect, no--worship\--the way you worship me just with asking? Zoey? It's...you're a little firecracker, do you know that? So...so everything, the world in such a perfect little package named 'Zoey' who just explodes with beauty and makes a big noise of love and lights the night with energy and...and...

“Just...c'mere, Little Love. Can I just...here...your leg...yeah. And your head...here...yes, that's it. You can let them...gently. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmhmmmmm... gentler, please, gentler?”

*

I'm tucked into her side, my 'maiden' at her hip, her legs intertwined with mine, our feet in soft strokes upon each other's, randomly, my right hand at her breast, lightly, idly, lazily stroking from side to nipple to valley, letting my thumb flick with every pass, gently, gently kneading as I go along, as she lets a moan float my way, behind it look from her kind eyes and a sweet, sweet smile. Another low, quiet, beautiful moan, short and quiet.

It's so soft, all of Ally, every part of her, from Ally's feet on mine, from how firmly soft her breast is, her skin, smooth and soft and firm and warm and...all the way to how her breath and smile and gaze, all, all of her is so soft. And to think, it just...happened, no thoughts, no effort, no anything. We just, I guess, we just wound up in this position.

We lock eyes and it's instinct, lips on lips, a proper, deep, long, slow, gentle kiss, waiting for the two of us to settle down, for it to be the most serene, blissful, perfect moment for us to do anything more, waiting for perfection before we make a single move.

It's divine now, waiting, building our mutual desires, hers for bliss and 'release,' mine for her, in the most Divinely sinful ways, through blessedly devilish methods.

But it's Holy, now, this minute, this moment, this second, eyes locked, mouths locked, as we 'say' to each other how 'ready' we are, more and more, closer and closer with each passing second. It's perfect now as I see it in her, as I feel it from her, that it's time for me to show her what I've wanted to let her know ever since...

It's time for me to set aside myself, set aside my fear, and begin to worship her, to begin our newest 'ritual,' to just start and go from there...

Slow, so slow.

She's giving me confidence, playing with me, slower, so much slower, her every move an “It's okay,” her every breath an “You'll be perfect, no matter how 'imperfect' you think you are.”

“Just,” I whisper, “just...please? Don't be silent?”

“Don't fear it, Zoey...don't fear it?”

“I'm trying not to. Just...help me by not stifling or muffling or silencing or...or anything? Be vocal? Be, um, very vocal?”

As my feet, one slowly up, the other down, as they stroke her soles, I move my head to lick, slow, long licks of her underarm, tasting the sweet, sweet saltiness of her sweat, right as my free hand begins massaging her fur, torturing her 'maiden,' too, too close and too, too far away, I start to tell her what I need to say.

A keening, cooing, moaning, whimpered “Nnnnnnnnnngh,” a note sung with a voice that can't truly be described, a voice to be experienced and never heard again, soothing every string of the orchestra of my soul. Another keening as I stop kneading. A cooing moan as I instead roll and pull a nipple. And, as my hand moves from her 'forest' to her 'innie,' a pained whine of need as I tease her, tracing small spirals, ever inward, towards and into her belly-button, ever outward, and inward again.

My feet stroke hers, one up, the other down, switching back and forth, as I blow a buff of air into her ear, soft, gentle, and she's letting a little steady stream form, slowly dripping onto me.

“I always want it, every second. But, right now, a little more 'play,' Zoey? Something, anything, just to...”

I kiss the few tears from her eyes, only to lead to a nose-to-nose kiss, while I roll and twist a nipple and my other hand's stroking its way up her inner thigh...

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnhuhnmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!”

I just can't go the next step. I can't bring myself to bring her to the peak, I can't bring her to and over the edge. “Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry! I...Ally?”

I see it now--she's holding back so I can...until I have the confidence to...until I'm ready, until I'm ready to go...so she's holding it back, holding it in, waiting, pained, waiting until I'm ready, until I'm...no! She's waiting, holding it back, holding it in, all but biting a knuckle until it's perfect for us both.

“Zoey...Zoey...Zoooooooooooo-eeeeeeeeeeeey! Don't feeeeeheheheheheeearrrrrr it. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmnnnnnnnnn!”

Little loving strokes of her inner thigh, up, around, circles, lines, as I hear her pant, little pulls and twists and rolls of her nipple as I hear her breath catch.

“I'm sorry, Allyson. I can't...give you...until I've told you a...until I've told you everything, but...but I can't with words, not with you like...like 'this' 'cause it'd be...cruel?”

“Tell me?”

“How?”

“Any way you want to tell me? How doesn't matter so long as...let me help?”

My lips move to hers.

*

I've never known this kind of loneliness, this amount of rejection, this fullness of fear. She's reliving her life, kissing it into me, the timidity in college, the turn-downs from girl after girl after girl, the fear that constantly runs through her, and the horror from nightmare of failure after nightmare of failure, all in how hard she's whimpering, all in how timid her tongue is, all in how still she is, and she's telling me how much she wanted, that the only thing she'd always wanted, all she ever wanted was nothing more complicated, nothing more at all, nothing except me choosing to love her, saying so freely and openly, staying with her, and it started before she went to college. It started the second she first saw me, and knew it the second she named me. She's kissing me to tell me all of it, every event, every emotion, every horror, all through an unmoving tongue and a firm yet gentle hand in mine, and then...

It's a special kind of miracle. It's Holy...it's...

God? Thank you.

She kisses back, kisses me gently and softly, slowly and deeply, telling me she came home, whole family gone, to live alone but not, came home to live with, to have, to have a forevermore with me, me unseen by all but she, living here for all of time just for the two of us to be together, kissing gently and softly, slowly and deeply to tell me she came home, at twenty-seven, she came home to die, to die and live as mine, as hers, as us.

But she's whimpering now, the bullet. Her whimpering growing into a slow, soft, low, throaty moan. Our first time. A longer, happier moan, a smile around our kiss, her tongue playful and active. She's kissing me this moment, saying it all, and there's only one response.

It's awkward, but I manage it--I giggle around a smile as, all the while, I'm in a playful kiss--no, her--her playful kiss. She's giggling now, giggling back, and...  
“Mnnnnnnghyiaaaaaaaah!”

She flicked 'it!' She's a little devil! By accident?! Aww! Mmmmm. She has nothing left to 'say' save “I love you,” over and over, as she moans gently, softly, into me, as I moan, gigglingly moan, smilingly, gigglingly, moan, gently, softly, back.

*

Can we have a moment like this over and over, forevermore over and over, God? Please teach me how to 'worship' her? I don't know and I kinda need a lot, a ton of, no--full--full guidance on this? God, please, moments like this, but me smarter, she smarter, the two of us 'experts' at 'ritual?' God, please? The two of us calm and nervous at once, this glorious feeling of nervous butterflies and serene ladybugs, of anticipation and full, deep peace, at the same time, for both of us? Please, God?

“I...I did.”

“Choose me freely?”

“Yeah. Not a choice, though? It was like a compulsion, a need, a...instinct--there's the word! It was instinct, no thought, no anything. I saw you and I knew and I reacted. But...mmmm...I...yessss...

“Zoey? A little more? Just...a nudge, a little push and I'm...just a little...don't...fear...just...a little more, a push...gentle little push?”

Two 'in' and 'in' and 'in,' deep, all the way deep. All but all the way 'out.' Back all the way 'in,' and my fingers curl, hooking upwards as my thumb gently rubs her...curling in as my thumb flies back and forth, once, to touch 'it.' Shorter strokes, shallower, over, over, over, curled, 'in' and 'out' and 'in' and 'out' and find it...find it...

find it! Found it? Found it! Gentle touch. Gently firm touch!

A puff of breath in her ear as...

Another puff as I press...

Puff, press.

Feet in the slowest kiss I can manage, gently firm pressure, foot on foot faster, as I slide down to bite a nipple, gentle pulling, the healing kind of pain, as my tongue gives it a tiny little flick, one hand kneading and massaging the other breast. Another biting lick, harder and softer, kneading and rolling as...'in,' hooking, 'out,' always hooking...a thrust. Another. Deeper. Deeper. Long, deep, long, out, long, deep, long, out, pressing, pressing, Pressing, PRESSING! There? There! THERE! And...and...And! AND! Lick and bite and press and press and Press and PRESS!

She's bucking, my fingers clamped and clasped and clamped again as...as she's...it's beautiful as she lets herself just flow, nectar exploding onto my fingers, onto my hand, exploding out of her to coat the sheets and my hand and our legs, a burst of her honey all the way down to my foot, another, harder, stronger, a third, gentler, lighter. A fourth. She has a pool from her 'maiden' to our toes, on me, on her, on the sheets, wetness, her, wetness, mine, wetness us.

Another little thrust and curl and puff of breath in her ear...another burst, small, short, of her nectar, and she's ready to scream as I...it's beautiful, finally hearing the notes, the symphony, as I kiss her, letting her scream into me as I give her but one last touch, just sliding two of me into her, curling to give her one...tiny...touch. She's not even riding my hand, just moaning softly. I...I need it...right, right, right fuckin' now! One little touch. Two of hers just, mind of their own, gently into me and...and!

It's...

Her scream, her bliss, her release, her oblivion, my scream, my bliss, my release, my oblivion. Us in oblivion. Our moans in harmony. Perfect, perfect, perfect pitch's harmony.

“Gnyaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Gnnnnnnnnnngyaaaaaaaaaaaaah! God, Zoey! Zooooooooooooeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey! OhZoeyOhZoeygirlZooooeeeeeeeeeeygirrrrrrrrrrlllllllll! OhShitOhFuckOhShitOhShitOhFuck! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oooooh! Oooooooooooooooh!

Mmmmmmmmmnnnnnnnnnnnnnnhhhmmmmmmmmmmmm....mmmhmmmm... nnnnnnnhhhhhhmmmmmmmm...nnnnnmmmmm...nnnnnn...nnnn... mmmmnnnn...wow...thaaaaaat...huhwas...ammmazzzzzing! Zooooooooooooooooooooweeeeeeeeeeeeee? N-n-n-n-n-never d-d-d-doubt yourrrrsellff ab-b-b-b-bout thisssss ag-ag-ag-ag-again, okaaaaay?”

“Nnnnnnnnghyieaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhyiieaaaaaahhh!”

We as a perfectly sung chord.

She's a screamer, crying, begging, laughing. She's loud. Very. And as she crashes, she says but one phrase--"I'm yours."

She brings herself to me, crying, laughing, holding me tight, letting the last ripples of her bliss pass through her, letting herself down, down, back to wherever we are, down, here, to this king-size bed.

"I'm yours, too." She's crying as she kisses me.

*

I'm drowned by wave after wave, shocks and jolts running through me, from my quim to every nerve, every fiber of my being, all both on fire and cold as ice as I came. Over and over, lightning and fire, ice and heat, over and over, liquid, bursts of liquid, over and over.

*

Finally, "Air," she says. "No more. I can't take any more...I...How many?"

“Five? I'm pretty sure. That last one? I think that might, might make six? I mean, damn...”

I don't know what to say here. I've nothing in my life to use as even so much as a crib sheet to get anywhere near the right answer. But...

“I love you? That's what I feel, so, that's what I say, right? I love you?”

“Never...” her breath isn't back yet. “Never say that...as a question...please?”

She tucks into me, bringing her legs to intertwine with mine, her chest against my chest, arms around each other, heads ready to kiss at a moment's notice, ready to stare into each other's eyes, ready to study smiles.

She's a wet, sticky, soaked, sweaty, sweet mess.

"Ally, how can I say 'I love you' ten thousand times in a second and you just sit here in silence for a thousand years while I'm saying it?”

“You just did, Zee, you just did.”

*

"You," I whisper in her ear, "Zoey, Zoeygirl, you truly, really just did. Every word. Just c'mere? No, keep them in, but just come to my arms?

"Those moans and whimpers and sighs. My talent may be words, sweetie? But yours, I envy you, I do. I envy you because you show. And neither of us, we don't...there's no need for it, dearheart. So what if you never find the words!

"Just by existing, just by being next to me, just by being at my side. You are literally mine? I'm the same for you. Do we...do we really, really need to say it or show it? No. You're right. You said it but I don't think you realized it. We live it."

"You know those kisses that we've said make us both fly, make us both escape everything and have a world..."

"...with just the two of us in it? Zoeygirl? I need one too?"

We read each other that well, that, that, that well, her lips inviting mine, begging mine to hurry back to hers, our hearts beating, our breath paced, our souls full merged, as one. She knows to be gentle with me, feather-touches, soft, no surprises, no kinks, just hands, roaming, exploring, mapping, aimlessly yet targeted, idle yet intimate, idyll yet ideal, over every inch, every part of me, touching some spots, avoiding others, going back to 'revisit' where she's 'missed.'

All as I do the same.

Play but sacred. Play that's not hers, not mine. Her play with me, on me, 'in' me, playing with my arousal, my devotion. My play with her, on her, 'in' her, playing with her arousal, her devotion.

"That," she, my Zoey, my always-love, says, sighing as the bliss fades, "that...that kiss, every time, forevermore, please?"

She's crying again.

And this time, so am I.

#####


End file.
